


Hard-Earned Spoils

by hannahrhen



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Attraction, Consent, Crack, Inappropriate Humor, Iron Man 3 Compliant, Kidnapping, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Swearing, WarTrophy!Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/pseuds/hannahrhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki could toss a collar on him, strip off a few inches of fabric, and Tony would be rocking the full Princess Leia look, hunkered down on his knees at the foot of Loki's--ugh--throne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard-Earned Spoils

**Author's Note:**

> So, the inspiration for this fic is an as-yet-unpublished WIP by one of my very favorite Frostiron authors, who just had to type the phrase "WarTrophy!Tony" in a tumblr message for me to melt into a puddle of goo. This is but an _amuse-bouche_ to what she's got underway, and I got the OK from her to ficlet the concept, so here's my go. (Not saying which author--she can out herself, but that's her biz until she publishes!)
> 
> And, if you're like me, you can't think the phrase "hard-earned spoils" without hearing it in Billy Boyd's/Pippin's voice. That's what 1 million LOTR viewings will get you!

It was all Loki could do to keep his countenance as one petitioner, then another, passed before the throne. _Hi_ s throne. How all this had come about--how he had taken the crown from the All-Father, hidden and then revealed his identity, and yet still _held on to rule_ \--

It was too much to believe.

And nearly impossible not to laugh.

Constantly.

Yes, the removal of Thor’s greatest allies--Sif and the Warriors Three, Heimdall, a few of the less-imaginative guardsmen--had helped, but mostly it was Loki’s own doing:

He’d turned out not to be terrible at rule, most days. And, after the drama Odin and Odin’s natural-born son had wrought, and as long as the crops continued to be bountiful at harvest, the subjects of the land seemed content enough to put up with Loki’s ongoing presence.

Take that, _Thor._

At the moment, Loki was beginning his second hour of afternoon petitions, hearing the petty travails of his people ( _his_ people, _Thor_ ), and--well, yes--his attention was beginning to wander. Easy enough to have it be caught by movement in the corner of his eye.

Ah, yes--the pet.

Loki hadn’t been terrible at rule, no, but still he had at least a few forces on Midgard scheming against him, once they had learned of his position. What he had done to get it. And he perhaps had made the situation worse by doing ... well, this.

By taking this--no, perhaps not “pet.” His lovely--ahem--reward.

His _prize_.

He leaned forward and teased his fingers through the hair, over the skull of the man who knelt before the throne, just to the side of Loki’s right boot. Admired the curve of his crown, the bend of his neck, the set of his shoulders.

Admired Tony Stark himself, in the flesh. A worthy prize indeed, for a king who had claimed a throne without bloodshed. The great Tony Stark, one of the wealthiest, brightest, and most powerful men of Midgard, captive and presented here in a display of Loki’s power. 

He couldn’t see Stark’s face at the moment--that wasn’t the point. Stark was here for show only, and so he was angled toward the hall, so that all might appreciate his ... assets.

And those assets were worth displaying: He’d designed Stark’s costume himself. The fitted leather trousers, which Stark had to be powdered into in the morning and slithered out of to bathe and sleep. The pendant at his throat with the runes of Loki’s own name--a delicious detail. The soft-linen shirt of off-white, crisscrossed with black leather bands.

And sleeveless, incidentally, once Loki had gotten a look at Stark’s biceps.

The man, apparently, did more than desk work in his laboratory.

Stark tilted his head back and sighed, resigned, as Loki’s fingertips trailed through his hair, just before Loki turned his hand sideways to get a firm hold, to take control of Stark’s movements and guide his head just as Loki wanted to.

This show of dominance over the mortal was among his favorite diversions. It was also, and not coincidentally, the one most likely to loose Stark’s tongue.

So, then: “Already bored, then, your smugness?” Loki couldn’t see Stark’s face, no, but he heard the humor in the voice--the tolerance. Hm, yes. Stark liked to tease as well.

So, Loki’s duties were over. It was time to _play._

With his free hand, Loki waved away the collected subjects--those still waiting for favor or counsel, who would be asked to return the next day. Stark once again held his full attention. Or, if Loki were forced to be honest, Stark never lost it.

Loki tugged on the back of Stark’s head, aimed to turn the man to face him, to get him to shuffle closer on his knees. “If I am, do you have a solution?” Realized too late that his tone had been more suggestive than he’d intended.

Got a snort in response, a little pull away from his fingers as Stark resisted the guidance. “You wish,” Tony snapped. He finally deigned to look back, exposing his profile even though he couldn’t--wouldn’t--meet Loki’s eyes from that angle. “Or, wait--here’s an idea: You could always invite Thor to come for Sunday dinner and see how interesting things get.”

Some of the lagging citizens tittered; they'd witnessed these scenes several times and remained unconcerned as long as Tony was well-fed and feisty. Loki released Stark’s hair and dropped his fingertips to the man’s jawline. Just a little caress, to remind Stark of his place. “Thor is always welcome to return,” was Loki’s light reply. “For whatever reason, he chooses not to.”

Didn’t respond to Tony’s huff, but he knew the mortal read the truth in it and was peeved. Stark, after all, wasn’t the so-called Avenger Loki wanted, not at first. He’d set his sights on the ever-righteous Steve Rogers, whose abduction would sow doubt and angst into the hearts of his countrymen. But Stark had been the one Loki could get, once he’d weighed super-soldier might against mentally powerful but physically weakened mortality. Loki was amused--and Stark was resigned--that the man’s taking had riled up Midgard and the self-styled Avengers ...

... just not _as much._

Not as much as Rogers’ taking would have.

He’d meant to dangle Stark as a taunt--had no real intention of hurting the man, or even frightening him. Just holding him for awhile, and teasing a bit, and then finally releasing him when the emotions on Midgard truly ran high.

That was, until the teasing had an unexpected effect. That had been a pleasant surprise. And, as soon as he’d read the expression on Stark’s face, the very first night, Loki became more interested in dressing the man, displaying him, petting him--and admiring him.

Definitely admiring him.

And if Loki were working to ensure his brother and allies were too confused to mount a rescue? Perhaps Loki had a goal in mind that necessitated just a _little more time._

Loki lacked Frigga's gift of foresight, but he was no fool. Soon, Stark himself would admit that they wouldn’t require Thor; as it was, things between them were about to become much more interesting.

***

Goddamn, Tony’s knees hurt.

He shifted again from his place at-- _ugh_ \--Loki’s feet, where the man-god- _dickwad_ liked to keep him for at least an hour or two every day.

He would concede: The humiliation had worked, at first. Tony hadn’t been able to help himself--the pants were fucking tight, and did he mention leather? Loki could toss a collar on him, strip off a few inches of fabric, and he’d totally have the Princess Leia look going on, all hunkered down on his knees or spilled over onto to his ass for full effect.

Except Leia didn’t have to worry about dressing left or right. Jeez, no matter what he did, the leather of the trousers _pinched._ And left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

But he wasn’t going to--wasn’t going to refuse, even if he could, or even complain. One, it would give Loki too much satisfaction to know that being shown off was getting to Tony. And two? Well, uh--intel. Yeah, _intel._ Sitting here, minute after minute, day after day, listening to Asgard’s citizens’ concerns as they pointedly looked everywhere in the hall except at Tony’s bulging crotch ...

Yep, what he was hearing? _That_ was useful information. Property-line disputes, love triangles, and questions about crop rotation--really fucking useful intel. Tony bit back another sigh as he squirmed on his knees and leaned his back against the arm of the throne, trying yet again to find a comfortable position.

Yep, _juuust_ as useful as being kept at Loki’s side almost constantly outside the throne room, when the man was consulting dusty old books in the library, or speaking with his counselors just outside of Tony’s earshot. Well, at least he was getting the lay of the land. Right?

 _Any_ time now, guys.

Okay, so, he couldn’t believe that weeks had passed and no one had shown up for an ill-advised rescue. Could there not be one Luke Skywalker behind one of the guards' masks? If that's what it took, Tony would _be_ the Leia. He would be the _hell_ out of the Leia.

He sighed in annoyance.

Yeah, okay, so--Tony hadn’t been completely abandoned. The Avengers had sent spies, even if they were less Jedi and more Jeckle. The first time Tony had seen them, Loki had been showing him landmarks from the balcony of his chambers, and so Odin's--sentient? mystical?--birds were just one more to take in.

The ravens were loyal to Thor, Loki had explained with glee, and so would swoop over Tony’s head, pointedly, as Loki chuckled and heaped more food onto Tony’s plate, or left him alone in his (admittedly awesome) bath, or touched Tony’s arm lightly as they sat together in the palace library, drawing his attention to a curious passage or illustration.

Fuck, those birds were on some kind of timetable, and Loki had learned the best ways to give the ... the _worst_ impression.

Hell, just yesterday, he had pressed a kiss to the back of Tony’s neck as he'd ruffled his hair, barely hiding a chuckle. And the birds had flown away, naturally--and _chittering at each other,_ for fuck’s sake!--before Tony had a chance to shove at Loki’s face with a growl.

Loki was really good at giving the appearance of something that ... wasn’t.

So, if Hyuuu-mann and Munificent were somehow reporting to Thor that Tony was happily doing the do with Loki--yeah, he couldn’t blame them for not armoring up and coming to Tony’s rescue. Immediately, anyway. Eventually Pepper would get involved and shame them into a galactic road trip.

He wondered how the hell he would get out of these pants without someone’s help.

So far, he’d just had Loki’s help. And Loki’s and Tony’s goals in that area were clearly at odds.

... Mostly at odds.

Somewhat at odds.

That was ... It was too bad that Loki had picked up on Tony’s conflict so quickly. Yeah, so, Tony had a thing for tall and dark-haired and-- _Jesus_ \--brilliant, and maybe Tony’s wee-hours jerk-off fantasies sometimes looked a little like the god o’ mischief armored up and in that stupid helmet in the middle of Tony’s bedroom. Tony never blamed himself for his twisted fantasies, because that was just a roundabout of shame. And it had been pretty, immediately clear that Loki wasn’t planning on fucking him _up_ during his captivity.

Hell, Loki had been so pleased with himself when, by his magic alone, they’d materialized on the Bifrost. He’d turned to Tony with a big, expectant grin, as if he were waiting to have some praise heaped on him. (Okay, so: It had been pretty impressive.) It wouldn't do to give in to that impulse, so Tony instead had pounded at Loki’s chest like he was the villain in a silent movie, and kicked up the requisite fuss when he was manhandled back to Loki’s rooms, where he was apparently ... expected to stay? In his own little alcove off Loki's-- _oh_ \--bedroom.

_Oy._

So, Loki must have been able to smell something, the jerk, because Tony had been on Asgard long enough for one meal--one snarky, snappish _dinner!_ \--and a few glasses of wine, and then ...

And then ...

Loki had turned toward his bathroom and begun to undress, begun to pull off all that metal and leather, and Tony--

Tony had _watched._

Maybe with more interest than dread. Maybe because it was already clear Loki wasn’t going to hurt him.

Maybe because those fantasies were a little more detailed than he’d like to admit.

So. Loki could hear his heart pounding, or something. Whatever it was, when Loki had turned back, shirt in hand and chest completely bared ... well, he hadn’t jumped on Tony, but the unholy gleam in his eye had been enough to tell Tony he was in deep shit.

And he _hadn’t_ jumped--which was good, because Tony kind of had a thing for consent. Lots of consent. So, when he’d put his hands up and shaken his head, Loki had ... stood down. But the gleam hadn’t exactly faded.

It had just sharpened.

And Loki, apparently, could play a helluva long game.

And, so, the next thing he knew, Tony was outfitted like this (yeah, he _knew_ what the letters on the necklace read), and then the touching--God, the touching, and Loki sent so many little whispers directly into his ear canal, down his spine, and between his legs, and Tony wasn’t going to give in--

\--he wasn’t--

But, oh, God, Loki made it hard.

Tony tilted his head down in an attempt to hide his smirk.

Yes, he definitely made it _hard._

And it wasn’t like Loki had been monstrous, even once. He never talked like this was long-term, or that death or missing body parts waited at the end. Nobody was mailing anybody fingers. If anything, Tony was being treated like the houseguest of a particularly fetishistic host, like Loki was staging his own personal Rocky Horror Show. The asshole was in good humor about the whole thing, actually. From early on, Tony had a pretty potent image of being the football in a gleeful little game of keep-away, with Loki as the bigger kid both catching and throwing.

(Thoughts of balls and catching weren’t helping. Neither was picturing himself in a lamé banana hammock.)

And, weirdly enough, Loki wasn’t boning being a king. Yeah, there was some interplanetary crap Tony didn’t understand, but the people who came into the throne room seemed--pretty content?--with how things were going. Tony knew the type--they’d seen a lot of turmoil in short order, and they were happy to have anyone in place who was making sure their needs were being met. And Loki ...

Loki was taking care of business.

It was working.

It was working on _Tony._

After all, thanks to these painted-on pants, the whole goddamned Asgardian court now knew the outline of Tony’s ... interest, which was making itself known at the worst possible times. And, man, yeah, he was frustrated, kneeling here and waiting, following Loki around. Being the recipient of that look and not doing anything about it. Being at the receiving end of _those hands_ and not doing anything about it.

And if Steve and Tasha and poor Clint already thought he was getting nasty with Loki on another frickin’ planet--

Who was Tony to disappoint them?

Hell, who was Tony to disappoint himself?

He’d certainly been treated like a pretty, pretty princess--at least one that Loki obviously wanted to fuck (as long as Tony admitted it first, it seemed). So, you know, if he had to kneel and get trussed up in Norse porn-wear and be petted--because that’s totally what Loki was doing right this very moment, his fingers tickling the back of Tony’s head while every word they exchanged _dripped_ with subtext, for fuck’s sake--

Might as well go _all in._

He finally turned fully to Loki, giving in to those insistent fingers. Even, yeah, shuffling on his knees a little. Gave Loki his best, brightest smirk, and tilted his head. Asking an unspoken question.

With an answer he already knew.

***

Loki’s own smile widened, and it was but a few moments before he took Stark’s wrist, pulled him awkwardly to his feet (the trousers were a masterstroke), and led him back to their rooms.

Yes, the man was laughing at Loki’s expense, at Loki’s predictability--but no matter:

The situation between them was about to get _very_ interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> ... and now I go back to waiting for the WT!T fic that pre-inspired this ... 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Find me nattering on about fic writing [on my tumblr](http://hannahrhen.tumblr.com)!


End file.
